On Thursday morning at 5:30, we loaded all our luggage onto the trusty school bus and Victor, Oscar and Carlos escorted us on a three and a half hour ride to Tegucigalpa Airport.  En route, we made a rest stop at a complex in the middle of nowhere which included a restaurant with an American-style breakfast buffet, a souvenir shop/ice cream stand, a pulperia and a sort of general store combined with a fundamentalist Christian Book Store.  They all seemed related and we saw some American-style homes and buildings behind them.  The folks in the ice cream store spoke American English and I noticed the older woman with a Mennonite-style head covering.  When I asked her, she said she and her husband were the only remaining members of an Amish colony which had bought farm land and moved there in the 1970′s.  They now had a church community of Hondurans plus a few other Americans who had moved down over the years.

Arriving at the airport, there were more good-byes.  Checkin was simple, we paid our $38.00 departure tax, and were boarded for an on-time departure of our American Airlines flight.  It was scheduled to last 2 1/2 hours.  After that time had elapsed, it seemed we were “treading water” in the air.  The pilot came on the PA and said there was severe stormy weather which had shut down the Miami Airport.  After circling hopefully for a while, he told us we needed like all other flights to be diverted to another airport to wait and be refueled.  Where were we going?  Nassau, Bahamas!  Sure enough, we spent an hour or two on the plane at the Nassau Airport and then were cleared to take off again for Miami.

Instead of 4:35PM EDT we arrived in Miami around 8:15PM.  Immigration was horrendous.  US Citizens and legal residents all go into the same line, but procedures (finger-printing, picrture-taking, multiple paperwork, etc.) are excruciatingly longer for legal residents who are citizens of other countries.  Most of those ahead of us in lines were such folks.  I finally got through immigration around 9:45PM.

Although our 6:45PM flight to Charleston was also greatly delayed, it did manage to depart without all 22 of us, almost half of its passengers.  American Airlines informed us that since the problem was weather-related, they had no responsibility to take care of us.  They weren’t sure what day they could find us seats on other flights!  We tried Amtrak which was also sold out.  Finally, 21 elected to drive north in two rented vans.  Ten drove through the night, eleven spent a few hours in a motel and then hit the road.  I decided to take a chance on staying in Miami.  I got a cheap motel room and tried till 1:30AM to get an airline seat.  Bottom line:  I struck out.  So I went to bed, and in the morning called again.  After a long time on hold, Volia!  I was told I could have a seat on that evening’s flight to Charleston.  Glenn Bond graciously drove down there to pick me up at 8:45PM.  The vans arrived at roughly 2:00 and 9:00PM in Conway.

The mission experience was too tremendous (as reported in previous blogs) for this trauma to spoil it for us.  We’re happy to be home, but many are itching to go again.  So I sign off till who knows when?!!!

Father ‘Rick

In the morning, some of the group went to the Home for the Elderly on this property which is run by the Franciscan Sisters.  It’s really like a Little Sisters of the Poor facility.  The residents are poor, have no family support, no way to pay.  The accommodations and services are basic but offered with love. The Sisters run the bakery I wrote about previously to support this home.  Our folks cheered the residents up with some of their wonderful singing.  They also gave them the adult clothing parishioners donated which we had brought here with us.

Today’s main event came after lunch.  We got onto our trusty school bus with our fabulous driver Victor and rode out to El Cortes.  The kids were waiting for us — some had even watched on the dirt access road and hopped on the bus with us.  First we put the finishing touches on our extreme makeover of Santa Maria School — setting up the furniture, hanging posters, maps, an alphabet train, etc., putting desk kits at each child’s place as we arranged the pentagonal tables and chairs, etc.  Many of these and other items had been purchased by team members last Saturday in Juticalpa to donate to the school, and some came from you at home.

Then we lined up along the walls, and the teacher invitred the children in to take their places, followed by the parents who joined us standing along the perimeter.  The teacher welcomed all and I was invited to lead a bilingual opening prayer, which ended with a blessing rededicating the school.  Everyone looked so happy to see the transformation of the schoolroom. The finishing touch, rewiring of the electricity, had been  done this very morning by Paul Fling and Tony of the Oloncho Aid staff.

At this time the program, prepared by teacher and students, began.  All stood for the singing of the Honduran National Anthem, followed by us singing “America the Beautiful.”  Next came a little speech of deep appreciation by the teacher, followed by a brief one by sixth-grader Rixy, student body president.  I then spoke for our group, expressing our joy at being able to join them in this project which bonded us together as a real family and will hopefully enhance the educational experience of the community’s children.

At this point, the children did a little concert of several songs. Teacher (el profesor) reiterated the sentiments of gratitude, lasting friendship, and hopes that we would all return again to be with them.  Applause and hugs!  End of program.

Now the mothers of the community brought in the homemade food they had prepared and we enjoyed various varieties of delicious tacos, beans, etc.  They were so happy to host us.  The other donations from church (children’s shoes and clothes and toys, etc.) were set up by our group in another area and distributed to the grateful joy of all.

Finally, it was time for us to go.  More hugs, cheers, “adioses,” boarding the bus, waves good-bye.  We were really now on the first stage of our journey back to you, which will end, God willing, tomorrow night.

All will have much to share.   We again thank all who made this wonderful mission possible.  I hope this blog has helped you feel a real part of Mission St. James.

Father ‘Rick

Dogs as house pets…Bug-free living, dining or eating quarters…Air-conditioning…no smoking sections in restaurants or anywhere…handicapped parking spaces…AmericaN-style Italian spaghetti…ice in your drinks…AND

Special Education schools, classes or teachers.

Thanks to Olancho Aid, there is one big exception to the last-mentioned:  ESCUELITA NAZARETH.  This was really the first outreach established fifteen years ago by Father Richard Donahue, when he was still Pastor of Santa Gertrudis.  It was the seed which blossomed into all the ministries of today’s Olacho Aid (see earlier post).

Mentally handicapped people are not recognized as people with their own value worthy of efforts to meet their needs for development, education and a good life.  Parents often hide them, if they go to school they may be mocked, constantly held back, etc.  The government and school system take no notice of them.

Father Donahue did and opened Escuelita Nazareth for their benefit.  Mainly with donations from American benefactors, it has built a beautiful facility, developed a dedicated faculty, and today serves between 60 and 70 from the ages of 4 to 42.

Three of our mission team are special education teachers:  Helen Tatarsky, Shirley Currie and Judy Lloyd.  Today, they went with me to visit the school, meet the teachers, observe the classes, and see if they could make any helpful contributions of ideas, teaching techniques, etc.  The teachers have little or no formal preparation for such work.

We were astounded by the quality of the facility and the teachers’ work.  By their own ingenuity and resources (reading, internet sites, etc.) they really are using just about the most p-to-date methods.  they have identified the students variously as autistic, learning disabled, hearing or sight impaired, down’s syndrome, etc. or any combination thereof, and developed student-specific learning plans for each.  The hearing impaired are not mentally challenged and have two classes of their own.  Our teachers commended the teachers and principal, made a few suggestions, and jotted down notes of items they might bring on a subsequent mission which would enhance the school’s programs.

There are also two workshops of occupational therapy for older folks who are no longer in school.  Since they have zero chance of getting eny employment in society, in one workshop they are paid to make beaded bracelets, necklaces, etc. which are then sold.  In another, using state-of-the-art equipment donated by an American benefactor, they design and print T-Shirts for sale.  We all purchased them as souvenirs and gifts. 

What is the biggest obstacle?  The general apathy of Honduran society towards doing anything for such people, and this includes parents.  It is sometimes like pulling teeth to convenice parents that it would be good to let their children go to Nazareth.  Even though they send their minibus to pick up the kids, there is much absenteeism.  The difference in progress between students with home support and those without is striking.

Today others did finishing work at the Santa Maria School, while some sorted out the donated items we brought for distribution to the needy of El Cortes tomorrow.  We will join the kids and families there tomorrow for a pot luck  fiesta celebrating the successful completion of the project we all worked on together.

TO BE CONTINUED — PROBABLY, ONE MORE TIME

Yesterday, Saturday, was June 25.  Although we knew nothing about this previously, it is a very special day in Honduras.  It commemorates the murder in 1975 of 2 priests, 2 women and 10 campesinos (country poor people) by agents of the rich landowners of Olancho.  It was a response to the efforts of the church to advocate for the poor, develop lay leadership, and insist on the implementation of the Land Reform Law.

Here, these victims of the rich and powerful are considered martyrs.  One of the priests was a young Franciscan Conventual from the USA, who had only been in Honduras for a short time.  While some of the victims seem to have been specifically targeted, others seem to have just been randomly killed.  A complicated, tragic series of events followed, which resulted in virtually all of the clergy and religious, including Bishop Nicholas D’Antonio, OFM, being exiled from the Province and Diocese, and virtually all religious services suspended till 1983.

On this date a special Mass for “Nuestros Caidos Martires” (Our Fallen Martyrs) is celebrated in the packed Cathedral of La Inmaculada in Juticalpa.  We were encouraged to participate.  Entering the Cathedral fifteen minutes before the 10:30 Mass, I was somehow identified by the Rector as a priest and invited to concelebrate.  Paul Fling and Wilma Lucas also attended.  The rest of our group was shopping, some for supplies for the chool we are renovating.  When some of them got to the Cathedral near Mass time, they didn’t see how to get in past the huge crowd gathered outside.

The Mass was presided by the current Bishop, Mauro Muldoon, OFM, a Franciscan from Boston who has served since the Diocese was reactivated in 1983.  He will soon retire and was accompanied by the new Coadjutor Bishop, Jose, OFM from Malta.  Most priests of the Diocese were also there, along with an elderly priest from France who had been in Olancho Province in 1975 and witnessed what is called the Massacre.

The highpoint of the Mass came after Communion when a banner bearing the names and photos of the martyrs was solemnly carried down the aisle and presented to the Bishop.  He placed it before the altar.  Then, one-by-one their names were called.  Everyone responded “Presente” after each name, symbolically saying “I am here.”  The bhave not died in vain.  They live on in the faithful who seek to carry out the mission they were killed for.

Bishop Muldoon was most friendly in the Franciscan way and even invited all of us to his house, antiwe were unfortunately unable to accept.

This was a moving experience which will remain with me for the rest of my life.  Sadly, this is still a desperately poor zone of a very poor country and the rich/poor divide doesn’t seem to have changed much.  One bright light of hope is the bilingual education being provided at Olancho Aid Santa Clara School to children of the poor.  I’ll write about that in a future post.

Today was our “paseo,” or excursion on Sunday when we don’t work.  I celebrated the 8:00AM Parish Mass and participated in the Corpus Christi procession.  Then we rode about an hour to a state park where we toured some fascinating underground caves used by native people amost 2,000 years ago.  We then ate out at a sort of resort with good food and several swimming pools which were enjoyed by the young folk.

In five minutes we will have our nightly gathering for faith-sharing.

TO BE CONTINUED

THE BIRDS:  We live in a house which, I’ve now learned, was previously an AIDS Hospice which eventually closed.  Pretty much abandoned for a few years, and with the somewhat open-air style of construction typical in Honduras, it was taken over by the local birds.  When Olancho  Aid leased it for a volunteer group residence, the birds had to be evicted.  They really haven’t accepted their fate yet.  Just this morning, as I ate breakfast on the terrace, I saw one alight on the lintel and then fly right into our living area.  They also always form part of the choir during our Masses — sometime quite vociferously!  Their voices soon cease to be a distraction and add a natural beauty to our worship.

OUR (VERY LOUD) SEPARATED BROTHER:  At least once a day, often while the parish Mass is going on between 5:00 and 5:30PM, a pickup truck drives by with a loudspeaker blasting a call to salvation as the world is nearing its end.  The shouting is so strident that so far I’ve only been able to understand a few words.  He doesn’t seem to be having much success in winning over us Catholics, but he never gives up.

THE BAKERY:  A major source of income for the Franciscan Sisters is their big bakery on the grounds.  It’s also a major source of breakfast goodies for us missionaries.  A walk across the property brings us to a huge storeroom where trucks are loading every kind of bread product for area stores, restaurants, etc.   But we can also pick out some sweet bread, dougnuts, rolls or whatever for our personal use.  A great resource!

LA POLICIA:  Yesterday, Wilma Lucas and her sous-chefs were driven back from the work site a few hours early.  We were going to prepare a home-cooked meal for our guest, Olancho Aid Founder Father Richard Donohue (He loved the lasagne and took home a doggie bag!).  After a stop at a supermarket where we found everything that Wilma, and salad chef Trisha Walker wanted, we drove on the short remaining distance to our house.

Probably 500 feet from the house, we met a police road check.  Now, four of us were riding in the back of the pickup, while Wilma and Trisha were up front with our driver, Oscar.  The first thing the policeman noticed was that Wilma was not wearing a seat belt and he gave Oscar a ticket.  (She’s got an explanation  — no room here to expand!)  It was no problem that four of us were riding in the open back of the truck!  Then Oscar didn’t have his wallet which contained his license, and it was a borrowed truck.  We sat there for about 20 minutes.   Finally, saying rather loudly “Bienvenidos en Honduras,” I told the guys to get out of the truck.  We started unloading our groceries to walk the rest of the way.  Suddenly, la policia told Oscar he could drive us to the house and then return to finish their business — apparently some sort of money exchange!

Today some of us are going to a special Mass for local “martyrs” at the Cathedral, all wll do some shopping, then most of us will return to our work site.  Five will go to graduation at Santa Clara School, Beth Mevissen’s former site as a teacher.

TO BE CONTINUED

Good Friday morning.  All is very, very well.

Our mission trips in 2007 and 2009 were under the auspices of an organization called Mission Honduras.  This year we have come to work for Olancho Aid.

What is Olancho Aid?  In one sense, the most concise answer would be Father Richard Donahue.  “Padre Ricardo” is an officially-retired 69+ year-old priest of the Archdiocese of Boston who for many, many years has been on loan to the Diocese of Juticalpa, Honduras.  (The long-time Bishop of Juticalpas is also from Boston, a Franciscan called Mauro Muldoon.)  He served for several years as Pastor of the Church of St. Gertrude on the outskirts of the city.  Under his leadership a beautiful new church was built and a Central American Congregation of Franciscan Sisters brought in.  As things developed, they have come to serve in parish ministry, run a home for the elderly, and also an orphanage on the grounds.  Their motherhouse and novitiate are also here, and they run a big bakery which supplies bread products to the whole area. The building we occupy was their old motherhouse.

 They are young, vibrant and friendly.  Our Mission choir will sing and play with them at the parish Mass on Sunday which is broadcast on the radio.

Seeing a need which was pretty much unmet in the whole country, Father Donahue sought benefactors in the USA and established Nazareth, a school for children with special needs.  More on that later.  Eventually, he relinquished the leadership of the parish to dedicate himself to founding and developing a series of ministries under the umbrella of a new organization, Olancho Aid.  Olancho is the name of this poor, rural Province of Honduras.

Today, Olancho Aid runs Nazareth, two elementary schools and two high schools (one of each is bilingual), and was instrumental in establishing a Juticalpa campus of the Catholic University of Honduras.  It also carries out outreach to poor surrounding communities, such as the work we’re doing in El Cortes.

Padre Ricardo continues to shepherd Olancho Aid, is Rector of the University and also teaches upper level English, as well as serving as chaplain to a Monastery of Poor Clare Nuns.  St. Gertrude’s Pastor is now Father Celio.  When he was ordained 20 years ago, he was the first priest ordained for the Diocese of Juticalpa, and only the fifth from the area in the 500 years of the Catholic Church’s present here.

We have invited Padre Ricardo to have supper with us today.  Wilma Lucas and assistants will be cooking up a storm.   I’ll write in more detail about some of the above in future posts.

TO BE CONTINUED

Over the past month, every one of us has been asked that very reasonable question countless times.  And the only sure answer we could give was, “Whatever the mission needs us to do.”

I had received e-mails from Olancho Aid Director Carlos Najera in which he said we’d be painting a public school.  Those of us who knew that envisaged a typical school which could benefit from some refurbishing with a new coat of paint in the classrooms.  And we secretly wondered — why would the mission want to bring a group from the United States to do something that simple, and for the public school system to boot.

Well, Tuesday afternoon after lunch, we piled into the mission bus and began a 30 minute drive into the countryside.  The last several minutes were on a just-barely-passable one-lane country dirt road.  And then we stopped beside a field where kids were playing soccer (futbol). 

A dilapidated shack stood at one side of the primitive pitch.  A smiling gentleman unlocked it and we entered to find “the school.”  Under a tin roof in need of repair was a dark room with little wooden tables surrounded by six little wooden chairs each.  An old teacher’s desk, a blackboard and some picutres on the wall completed the picture.  The walls were grimy, the chairs and tables had lost almost all their finish, and the exterior walls were covered with mold.

In this little one-room hut in the middle of no where, “the professor” teaches 20+  kids in grade K-6.  Our job, we now learned, pursuing Olancho Aid’s goal to really serve the poorest of the poor, would be to refurbish and upgrade this center of learning for the little community of poor farmers named “El Cortes.”  A sign on the school said it was Santa Maria School of El Cortes.

Our hearts leaped.  We were going to use our varied skills and grunt labor and your donated money to really help very poor children and their families.  The team and our Olancho Aid companions began to make a list of needed materials and strategize how the project could be carried out over the following days.  Meanwhile, our kids began playing with the local kids — soccer and other pickup games.  And two lovely local ladies appeared with trays of sugar sweets and homemade doughnuts for their new friends.  We knew they had nothing but from that their hospitlaity and generosity wanted to welcome their new friends.   More on this project as it develops.

Today is Loren (aka lARN) Green”s17th birthday.  She spent it singing at our daily Mass and painting the school.  She got to talk with her family by the computer-linked ;phone the Walkers have made available to all of us.  We have alittle  surprise for her later.

At 3:00PM we will go to a reception organized for Beth Mewvissen.  She will be welcomed home by her former first grade students at Santa Clara Bilingual School.  Many people have already recognized her along the way and greeted her with huge hugs.  Beth had a real impact here and she’s thrilled to be back, even briefly.

Words from a few of our missionaries:

Maxine Gatling:  “Our mission work is awesome.  The people are friendly and they participate in our makeover of their school.  They seem very appreciative.”

The Birthday  Girl, Lauren:  “It’s my first mission trip.  So far it’s going really well.  We’ve gotten a lot accomplished.  The team as a whole has strengthened their bonds with each other and with Jesus.”

Ron Walker:  “Unexpected — I’m VERY impressed with this mission, with what people have done in the past to make it what it is today.”

TO BE CONTINUED

What to do?  RonWalker quickly offfers his big van as a luggage carrier if one of the family members seeing us off will go along to drive it back to Conway.  God bless Sallie Walbourne, who thought she had just come down to deliver daughter Maura and see her off.  She piles in with Ron, the luggage and Wilma Lucas, the rest of us pile into the bus and the van, and we’re off shortly after 2:00AM.

The drive, if anything but relaxing, is nonetheless uneventful.  Some manage to doze, others don’t.  The drivers do a great job.  At 4:15AM, we pull up outside the American Airlines Terminal and with bleary eyes stagger to the checkin area.   We try to use the self-checkin machines.  For a multistop, international trip like ours, I lost track of the number of steps in the process.  The two agents take pity on us and do most of the group at the counter, much more rapidly and efficiently.

Security is quick and easy and we settle down to wait for boarding.  Coffee and snacks are available at the newsstand, the only thing open at 4:45AM.  It’s amazing how many people are in the terminal waiting for various flights.  Our boarding call comes and we take our seats, filling almost half the small Embraer Brazilian Commuter Plane run by American Eagle.  The flight, though, is smooth, and we arrive at Miami Airport about a half-hour early.  I’d say we just barely arrive at the airport itself, as our plane drops us off on the runway at the very extreme end of the outdoors commuter aircraft temrinal.  We walk what seems a couple of miles until we are finally inside.  The nice surprise there is that our connecting flight gate is virtually right there where we have entered the terminal.

We have a little less than three hours to wait before boarding our flight to Tegucigalpa, and various tasty and surprisingly inexpensive options are available for breakfast.  I enjoy a blue plate special of scrambled eggs, bacon, home fries and toast.  People read, chat or play cards to while the time away.

Meanwhile, other passengers start arriving at the gate area, and we begin to notice something interesting.  We are all wearing classy blue Mission St. James T-Shirts, designed by Mike Donellan and made by Ron Walker.  And whaddya know!  We’re not the only group in  uniform.  Waiting to board the same Miami-Tegucigalpa flight are at least four other church groups going on a misison trip to Honduras!  I think we’re the only Catholic missionaries to this historically Catholic country.  One very large grop in green shirts is from a Presbyterian church in Hickory, NC.  So, Honduras is really crawling with “American Christian Missionaries” this week.

The timetable makes it look like a 40-minute flight, but that’s deceptive.  It’s actually a two-hour-forty-minute flight, since Honduras is on Central Standard Time, two hours behind South Carolina.  We’re given a beverage on-board and arrive exactly on time.  Tegucigalpa International Airport seems like it’s located in the middle of this capital city of one and a half million people.  The plane sweeps around some mountains, makes a quick descent between them, flies low over houses and businesses, and suddenly, without even a hint of being near an airport, touches down on the runway.  Everyone on the plane claps and cheers!

TO BE CONTINUED

We’re on Honduran soil!  We deplane, all under our own power, including the valiant, energetically ambulatory Wilma Lucas, who has indignantly refused the wheelchair that the airline personnel say had been ordered for her!

As with an international arrival anywhere in the world, we trek to the immigration hall, where we get into the line for “extranjeros,” “foreigners.”  What an advantage at that point to have been a Honduran citizen and able to geT into the much shorter line.  Still, it moves well enough and ends with a stamped passport and a smiling “Welcome to Honduras” from the immigration official.  Our luggage is already on the carousel, and easy to identify since most pieces bear custom luggage tags made by Ron Walker.  They have our parish logo, a prominent green Jerusalem Cross, on each one.  As at check-in, Charleston security, and immigration, again all sail through without trouble except the apparently-suspicious-looking Paulette Flench (could it be the baseball cap?), who is checked out more thoroughly.

Waiting for us in the terminal are a smiling Carlos Najera and his three young sons.  Fluently bilingual, he is now the head of Olancho Aid, guided still by its intrepid founder, Father Richard Donohue of Boston, MA.  Carlos, his companions, and some entrepeneurial kids help us with the luggage and we head across the parking lot to where the recently-purchased Olancho Aid school bus is waiting.  Thank GOD!  It can accommodate our tons of luggage and ourselves.  In a low voice, Carlos asks me if we’re hungry!  Are we hungry?  For our body clock it’s about 12:30 Noon.  So the bus drives a short distance to a brand-new, glistening mall and we’re off to the food court.  Most of the less-adventurous go to Subway, some of us try specialties at a local stand, and all seem satisfied with a tasty lunch.

And we’re off!  It will be a three-hour bus ride to Juticalpa.  First impressions:  the hills, alll completely covered with multifamily housing…big flat-bed trucks piled high with huge, neat plastic bags filled with trash and/or recycling material…the warm but delightfully-unhumid weather…speeding across the countryside in our yellow bomber with all the windows open.

Everyone has done well on the journey, but there’s no one who isn’t dead tired.  Still, the excitement of being in another country, another culture, pumps us up and fends off sleep for the most part.  For some, this is their first time outside the United States.  For others who have been abroad, it’s the first time in Honduras, and indeed in a developing country.  The sights, sounds and smells are intriguing.  Those of us who have been on one or both of the previous missions, experience a certain sense of homecoming.  We revel in the beloved familiar uniqueness of this beautiful, if poor, country and its people.  For Beth Mevissen, it’s a homecoming in spades.  We are going this time to help the work of Olancho Aid in Juticalpa and vicinity, precisely where Beth served as a volunteer, teaching first grade in the mission’s bilingual school in the 2009-10  school year.  She looks forward to reuniting with many friends and former students.  She was the one who had been able to assure us that this was the mission just right for us (and she would certainly be proven absolutely right!)

Honduras is a mountainous country in general.  Our ride took us eastwards from the capital through open country with hills on every side.  This is a rather unpopulated area and there was relatively little traffic.  The bus driver could let her rip, and he did!  About two hours along the way, we made a rest stop at a little pull-over area which sported a restaurant, ice-cream stand, “pulperia” (convenience store) and a Christian book store, as well as clean rest rooms.

Then it was all aboard for one more hour’s ride till we entered the outskirts of Juticalpa.  It’s a city of about 50,000, and capital of the very extensive (if poor and sparsely populated) state of Olancho.  Soon we turned down a dirt road and spotted a church tower.  Next thing we entered a gate and our bus came to a stop beside a large, attractive stucco building.  This is our home until June 30.

The building belongs to the Franciscan Sisters who have their motherhouse and other institutions on the parish church grounds.  I believe it was their old motherhouse which they outgrew and built a new one.  It stood abandoned for a few years and was taken over by the birds.  A year ago, Olancho Aid leased it from the Sisters, cleaned it up, and refurbished it to serve as a volunteer group residence.  Our rooms are on the second floor, spacious, with bunk beds.  There’s a small lounge area, and a common bathroom with four stalls and four showers.  For water pressure and privacy reasons, we limit use of the showers to two people at a time, but it has proven unnecessary to schedule separate times for males and females, or specific times for each one’s shower.

That’s just one example of the great spirit of respect, collaboration and sacrifice in this group without exception.  More on this later.

Breakfast is pickup.  Coffee is made for us by Oscar, who is our local shepherd.  He lives on the first floor, accompanies us when we leave the house, takes care of any house problems or needs, and keeps us informed of developments and what is planned for us.  He is a really delightful young man who speaks fluent English, having lived for a couple of years in Knoxville, Tennessee.

Benita, the cook, makes our lunch and supper.  Rice has always been on the menu in one form or another.  The first lunch came with beans, supper with chicken and vegetables.  There’s also a pantry with crackers, bread, snack items, peanut butter, etc., which we’re always free to raid.  Purified water is on hand in several canisters, and Coke products are made available at meal times, along with coffee around the clock.  There are even ice cubes made from the purified water!

Arriving here around 4:15PM, we were given around two hours to settle in and then served our first supper, which was pizza.  Carlos then  gathered us together for a briefing on guidelines, helpful information,  etc., and to answer many questions.

By then it was around 8:00PM (10:00PM in Conway).  At that point, most of us would have agreed with what my mom used to say when she was ready to go to bed:  “I think we all ought to get a good night’s sleep.”  Amen.  And I did, as did just about everyone else.  We have fans, and it cools off at night to a sleepingly-comfortable evening.

TO BE CONTINUED

Anyway, we really count on your prayers and will have a lot to share on our return.

Father ‘Rick